Page 35 of Spinning Out Of Control

Damn, good point.

G

Here’s an idea! How about instead of fantasizing about a time machine, you admit to us and yourself that you’re developing a crush on the man you swore to hate?

Rach

And now that you’re stuck in the same hotel as him, you can’t sleep because all you can think about is the orgasms he bestowed upon you?

Dottie Girl

And maybe you can even put on your big girl panties, knock on his door and ask him to fuck you to sleep with his shiny penis?

Kira

I am simply flummoxed. How could you all suggest I canoodle with the enemy? He lied to me. He used me.

Dottie Girl

We’re all Team Kira, but sometimes the team needs to give Kira a little kick in her booty.

G

Exactly. We’re on your side but just playing devil’s advocate here…you don’t know for a fact that he lied to you.

Rach

I’m not supposed to tell you this since Am is scared shitless of you, but he believes Warren would have told you the truth if he knew the score when you guys hooked up

Dottie Girl

And we all know Amir is the best judge of characterout of all of us.

Kira

…

That’s it. I’m putting an ad in the paper for three new best friends.

This isthe worst kind of morning. I woke up way too early–before the sun even thought about opening its eyes–my nerves firing on all cylinders and keeping me from sleeping until my seven o’clock alarm.I never get nervous on talent scouting missions. I have an excellent track record, after all. I don’t put the offer out there unless I’m pretty sure it’s coming back to me. I’m certain that the woman we’re here for is going to accept my offer, and I know that she’ll make an excellent addition to the Spin Sync family, but that certainty didn’t help me shake the nerves.

I laced up my sneakers and went for a run, forgoing my headphones since it was still dark, and I wanted to stay aware while burning off energy in an unfamiliar city. Instead, I listened to the sound of my heavy breathing while rehearsing my pitch to Jeslyn Bender in my head as I sped through Central Park. I ran six miles, showered, ate breakfast, skipped the coffee, and watched three episodes of Gilmore Girls and still, anxious energy courses through me.

Now, standing on the other side of Warren’s hotel room door, my fist raised to knock, I think I’ve figuredwhy I have butterflies currently preparing for the Olympic gymnastics trial in my belly. I lost a piece of my willpower last night in that restaurant. I let the smallest section of my finely crafted walls down, and Warren busted through like the Kool-Aid man on steroids. I don’t know why I told him about my dads and Tía Camila, except that it felt good. I had to fight to stop myself from telling him more about my trips to Argentina, my Bobe and Ziede and the family that is uniquely mine.

And when he’d told me about the story of the soggy fish and chips and his piece of shit father, I’d nearly flipped the table in rage. All I could picture was this beautiful man in front of me as a small boy, crying and being held down. I wanted to punch something. Actually, I wanted to punchsomeone, but I tamped that urge down after a quick online search gave me Warren’s father’s name and informed me of his passing more than twenty years ago.

Something about Warren has always affected me, made my judgment blurry and lured me into his orbit.

Not just something. It’s his eyes. His stupid, evil, beautiful eyes and the way they cut through me, slicing me open and leaving me raw. I’m going to have to ask him to keep them closed from now on if I’m going to have any chance of hating him.

The door swings open, and I take a step back. Warren is dressed in a light blue button-up shirt, the sleeves rolled to his elbows and the color making thosestupid, evil, beautiful eyes pop. It’s tucked into a pair of criminally tight dress slacks that hug his thighs. His feet are bare, his slutty little ankles peeking out from the hem of pants and making me blush.

Goddammit. I’ve had the man’s dick in my mouth, yet here I am, blushing over his ankles like a Victorian debutante.

“I thought I heard you lurking out here. I just need to slip some shoes on. Would you like to come in?” He steps back, opening the door wider.

Wordlessly, I tuck my hands into my back pockets and cross the threshold. His room is identical to mine but unlike the sterile room with just a bed and my suitcase open in the corner that I slept in last night, this one feels lived in.

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